Page 95 of An Indecent Longing

He had the art of looking innocuous down to a science. A former teammate had once called it Ian’s superpower. He could live with that.

After giving the area an initial sweep, he let himself watch Dorrie play for a few minutes.

She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she was late. No sooner had she dropped her bag than she ran out onto the field to take kickoff.

Ian could take or leave soccer. If he had a preference, it’d be for ice hockey. The game moved and it was physical. Soccer was a close second. He’d never played except in high school gym class, but he understood the general concept. Get the ball in the goal and knock down anyone in your path to get there.

Dorrie was really good at the knocking down part. The players were all women and they had no qualms about getting physical. He had no idea what he’d been expecting but it hadn’t been this. These women meant business.

He knew the game was supposed to be low-contact but he didn’t think these women played by those rules. Yes, there were referees on the field but there weren’t many whistles blown and there seemed to be a lot of bumping and shoving and people falling on the ground.

The teams didn’t have a lot of extra players and Dorrie stayed on the field for most of the game. And if he had to guess, she was probably one of the better players. She ran with a fleet grace he hadn’t expected. And she knocked several players on their asses as she made her way to the net time after time. She didn’t score every time but she made two of her team’s three goals in the first half.

He found himself cheering and wincing along with the rest of the crowd, his attention centered on Dorrie. She played with intense focus, her concentration absolute. If the ball was in play, nothing else mattered. And when she scored or someone else on her team did, her smile dazzled.

He’d noticed how she sometimes seemed uncomfortable in social settings, not shy but quiet. Not so here. On the field, she had no qualms about anything.

He was so intent on watching her that he almost missed the guy sitting in his car watching the game a few cars down.

Now, the guy could be there watching his girlfriend or his sister or his wife. Hell, maybe he was just some guy who liked to watch women play soccer.

But he never got out of his car. And he occasionally cased the area. Just like Ian was doing.

And as he looked closer, Ian could’ve sworn the guy looked familiar.

Since Ian didn’t want to tip off the guy that he was being watched, Ian decided to move closer to the field.

Ben had claimed a spot behind the row of chairs off the sideline, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking like just another guy rooting for his girlfriend at the game. Except Ben was right. They needed chairs to blend in.

“Hey. Guy in the black sedan seems awfully interested in the game.”

Ben was smart enough not to turn and look. “Suspicious?”

“Can’t be sure but he looks familiar. Maybe you want to take a walk back to the car and check him out.”

Ben nodded. “Sure. I’ll do it in a sec. You watch the game at all?”

Ian knew where Ben was going with that and nodded as they exchanged a look. “She’s a beast.”

Ben chuckled, and Dorrie looked over at that second, as if she’d heard him. She couldn’t have. Ian had barely heard him. But then she smiled at them and Ian’s heart actually did a little flip.

Fuck, he was totally falling for her.

“Did you see her knock that Amazon on her ass before she scored that second goal?” Ben’s smile widened. “Holy hell, we better not piss her off. She’ll mangle us.”

Us.

Ben’s casual use of that word sounded so normal. Like it wasn’t weird that they’d both had sex with her last night. Together and separately.

“You have that look on your face.”

Ben’s singsong tone made Ian want to punch him. He made sure no one but Ben could hear him when he said, “Fuck. You.”

Ben started to laugh, loud enough that Dorrie could hear it. She said something to her teammates then jogged over to them. Ian caught several of her teammates staring at them with wide eyes then whisper back and forth and smile. And these weren’t teenage girls. A few were in their young twenties but the rest looked to be in their early thirties and forties. Smiling and shaking their heads and eyeing up Ian and Ben like they were sides of beef.

Then Dorrie stood in front of them.

“Great game,” Ben said before she could even speak. “But I don’t remember there being this much violence in soccer. You ladies are no ladies.”

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